The applause came slowly—one clap, then two—before it engulfed the auditorium.
But it wasn’t for all of them.
Most of it was for Zeno.
Daniel tried to hide the stiffness in his bow. Jiwoon gave a polite smile, while Shelly and Youngmi looked like they weren’t sure whether to bask in the praise or pretend they weren’t rattled. The moment had been clear—one of them had delivered a performance so distinct it left the rest of them in the dust.
The camera cut to Ian, who was still amazed even after the scene has ended. “It’s genius,” he muttered under his breath, shaking his head in disbelief. “How does he know those terminologies?”
Risa crossed her arms, her lips twitching upward. “What else did you expect from Zeno, though?” she murmured, sounding proud. “It’s been well established that he’s a good actor.”
And he was. At least, everyone had an idea about it.
But among all these people—veterans, rookies, stars from different networks and genres—Zeno Han wasn’t expected to stand out.
“Is Zeno Han always this good?” one actor whispered.
“I thought he was just a pretty face,” another muttered, brow furrowed. “I mean… I see him everywhere, but it never hit me until now.”
“I only watched The Forsaken Prince,” someone else added. “He was good there. He could be better. It feels like he improved a lot, though.”
The judges remained quiet. They sat forward in their seats, their gazes on the table.
Ari cleared her throat first.
Everyone straightened once they started giving out comments.
“Well,” Ari began, flipping through her notes. “Jiwoon, your reactions were sharp—especially in the first half. Shelly, Youngmi, I liked your urgency, though it faded near the end. Daniel, you were… very loud,” she said, trying to sound as polite as possible, but it still left a bitter taste in Daniel’s mouth.
“And Zeno…” Ari hesitated.
She looked down at her notes, then later closed it instead.
“I didn’t expect that,” she said simply. “That was impressive.”
There was a pause.
“How do you know so much about planes?”
Zeno stood calmly, one hand folded over the other in front of him.
“I like planes,” he answered softly.
A few people chuckled, but Ari just raised a brow, amused. “Well. That’s a good hobby.”
And then, Ryeo Wang grabbed his microphone, his reaction shown on screen. It was subtle. Almost no one noticed it—until he smiled.
It was just a small quirk of his lips.
Still, it was enough to draw gasps across the room.
“I quite like the twist,” Ryeo said, nodding once. “It felt controlled. And you took authority well.”
Zeno gave a small bow, but Ryeo lifted a hand.
“However,” he continued, “you didn’t feel much like a team.”
Zeno’s lashes lowered just slightly.
“You were in control,” Ryeo said, “but the others weren’t with you. They were beside you. There’s a difference.”
Then Jonas Kim uncrossed his arms and leaned forward, looking Zeno straight in the eye.
“This was a scene for everybody to shine,” he began slowly. “But it seemed like you were all fighting for attention.”
Zeno didn’t flinch. But his eyes, only for a split second, narrowed.
Mr. Kim smirked. “Well, I guess a superstar would want to do that, right?”
A few people in the crowd let out awkward chuckles.
“Anyway,” Jonas muttered, leaning back again. “That’s it. I’ve given your team a score.”
With that, their turn ended, definitely having gone better than that of Sangwon’s team, who had now become silent.
They walked back to their seats and Zeno’s teammates gave him thumbs up once they were seated. He gave them a nonchalant version of it in return.
He exhaled as the next team made their way to the stage.
Mr. Kim didn’t quite like him, huh?
It wasn’t a question. It was just the confirmation of something he already knew.
Zeno wasn’t the type to take things personally. Still, the way Jonas Kim said it—like Zeno had intentionally hogged the spotlight—itched somewhere beneath his skin.
Technically, it was Daniel who started hogging the attention. Daniel had jumped in too early, trying to dominate the scene. Zeno only reacted the way anyone else would. He took the reins and stabilized it.
But of course, he was the one who stood out.
That made it easy to blame him.
He shrugged to himself. It didn’t matter. The first mission was done, and as far as he was concerned, he’d done a good job.
He tilted his head, eyes on the ceiling for a second.
The show went on.
Two more groups took the stage. The theme remained the same—“The Last”—but the interpretations were wildly different.
The first was The Last Meal—a dark, chilling scene about prisoners on death row having their final supper.
The second group did The Last Human—an alien invasion set in a futuristic bunker. The visuals were stark, and the acting was fast-paced. But what truly sold the performance was Phoenix.
Zeno watched him. Phoenix was smooth and practiced, appearing like he already knew the prompt beforehand.
“Phoenix has done a lot of improv before landing his first major role, right?” Shelly whispered to Youngmi, and Zeno caught it.
Youngmi’s eyes slightly widen. “No wonder he’s so good at it.”
Phoenix bowed at the end with confidence before heading back to his seat.
And then came the last group.
Most contestants had already created a name for them—the untouchables.
They walked to the center of the stage not in a particularly special manner, but their auras spoke for themselves.
They weren’t necessarily the most legendary, but they were the stars of now. The ones the public watched. The ones brands chased.
Aside from Zeno and Phoenix, they had the most balanced careers in the lineup.
Well—almost.
Hero shuffled in last, looking slightly confused. That shouldn’t come off as a surprise anymore, really. He has been clueless since the very start of the mission, singing praises for everyone who had come up on stage.
Zeno tilted his head as they chose their prompt.
They picked the last remaining by default.
The Last Day on Earth.